Pavor Nocturnus
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "He found her walking through the halls barefoot. Generous hips swaying underneath a short, cream silk housecoat and nothing else, the smell of freshly washed hair and well-scrubbed skin trailing along behind her like a second shadow."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Warnings:** This is my fill response to a rare pairing prompt posted on LJ at the TWD kink meme: _"Jenner/Jacqui: Jenner and Jacqui have sex the night the group is at the CDC."_

**Authors Note #1:** Rated for: adult language, adult situations, religious references, and allusions to the season one finale.

**Pavor Nocturnus**

He found her walking through the halls barefoot. Generous hips swaying underneath a short, cream silk housecoat and nothing else, the smell of freshly washed hair and well-scrubbed skin trailing along behind her like a second shadow.

She doesn't notice him at first, too busy wandering from room to room, soaking it in. The neck of the wine bottle she'd claimed for her own drifting easily at her side, threaded between long, delicate fingers as she stopped at the viewing window that looked into one of the observation rooms. The dark red liquid sloshing this way, then that, swaying in time to a tuneless, monotone rhythm as the bottle swung lazily through the cool, recycled air.

But when she does, catching his reflection in the glass just behind her, she doesn't seem all that surprised. In fact, she only smiled. Sending him that same beautiful smile she'd gifted them with at dinner. Effervescent and unapologetically vivacious, clearly still riding the high that only a full belly and a few bottles of surprisingly good wine can rightly provide.

He'd envied her for that. In fact he envied all of them; envied them for still being able to take pleasure in the little things.

He'd never really been a religious man. In truth he'd always found it hard to reconcile the difference between blind faith and hard science. But then again, he'd never really had too. His parents had let him decide for himself what he wanted to believe, and Candace, well, science had always been her theology. In the end, he supposed he was open to the concept of religion; he just wasn't overly convinced by it. He figured that was just the idealist him though, always looking for that one perfect solution. That last puzzle piece to a centuries old problem.

But when Rick and his group had showed up in Vi's exterior cameras, the only living people he'd seen in close to two whole months, now all but _crashing_ through his front door on the eve of zero hour. He couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of divine intervention going on. It was either that, or it was the universe's worst attempt at some sort of tragic joke at his expense.

Only now he's beginning to think that maybe them being here wasn't about him at all. Maybe it was about _them, _the people that all the science in the world hadn't been able to save. The victims and survivors of Wildfire that had been counting on them, on _him_ to find a cure, to reassure them that everything was going to be alright. To _save _them...

He supposed, in a weird and rather disjointed way, that it actually made sense. That he, by profession would enviably hold that responsibility. To tell them that in the end it didn't matter. That all their hardship and suffering, the constant struggle just to stay alive from day to day since this whole mess had started had been ultimately worthless.

He knew they had questions. Ones that probably wouldn't wait any longer than their first handful of pain pills and a few bites of what passed for breakfast these days to combat their hangovers in the morning. There would be questions he'd have the answers for, but more that he wouldn't. There would be things he'd refuse to answer and more that he'd try to avoid. They'd come here seeking refuge, safety, and an end from all the death and destruction of the outside world. And he'd give them that. He'd give them that for as long as they all had left.

_After all, they were all in this together now…_

He was startled out of his own thoughts when she turned around to face him. Her dark eyes kind, back lit with spunk and intelligence as she turned her back on the window and made to speak.

"I'd almost forgotten what this feels like." She hummed, breaking the silence almost effortlessly as she tipped her head back against the cool pane of glass, eyes closed and blissful as she soaked in the chill.

"What, _what_ feels like?" He asked, tongue playing with the unfamiliar syllables as they slipped awkwardly from his lips, still stuck on the novelty of actually talking to another person after all this time alone.

It was one of the things he hadn't realized he'd miss until it was suddenly gone. Until there was no one else left and he was all alone. _People… _Human contact… He'd been alone for months with nothing but his own god damned reflection. Until he'd started having entire conversations with the computer monitors or even Vi, desperate to drive away the loneliness, even if it was just with empty comforts and false promises.

So perhaps _that_ was why he didn't feel even a little bit guilty when he used her inattention to examine the contours of her face. …Greedy in spite of himself as he took in every detail. - She really was quite lovely. Now that he actually had a spare moment to notice. It was all there in her face, in those high, delicate cheekbones, dark eyes and plush lips. In fact, there was even something aesthetically pleasing about the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. Cheeks dimpling in mirth as the graceful taper of her throat arched in time. Innocently unaware of the tantalizing picture she painted as she'd laughed unabashedly over dinner. Smiling and chuckling for the sheer pleasure of it as Dale had topped up everyone's third or fourth glass of wine.

"…This._ Everything…_" she began, gesturing up at the vaulted ceiling before swinging her hand around them to encompass the entirety of the long, curving hallway. As if she was addressing the entire complex at large.

"Safety, food, clean clothes, hot water, cold water, coffee machines, air conditioning… Need I go on?" she replied, tone cheeky as she ticked off the items with her finger like points on a checklist.

"Yes… It appears as though I've been one of the lucky ones," he admitted, lips quirking at the irony of the situation as he leaned up against the wall beside her.

Because while it certainly didn't seem that way from where he was standing, he was beginning to realize that it might just be true after all. After what Rick had told him in the control room, and how the others had acted throughout the course of the night he realized his sheltered experiences probably couldn't even_ begin_ to compare. Hell, he'd been in a security enforced, climate controlled bunker, stocked to the brim with every imaginable want or desire since the infection had first been discovered. More than that, he and Candace had been _air-lifted_ from the street outside their town house on the Governor's orders in order to get them safely to the CDC and working on a cure.

"Maybe not so lucky," she returned, dark eyes flicking up and down the length of him before she leaned back against the window as well. Gaze softening into a gentle smile that he couldn't help but return.

And for a long moment they simply stood there. Brushing shoulders in a hallway that only a few months before had been filled to the brim with all manner of people. People who had all meant _something_ to _somebody_.

…Content to let the silence speak for itself.

* * *

**A/N:** There will be _one more part_ to this puppy. Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing is love! I know this is a rare pairing, and probably the first of its kind, so thank you for giving it a try!

**Reference #1:** _Pavor Nocturnus _is a term that refers to a night terror, also known as a sleep terror, incubus attack, is a parasomnia disorder, causing feelings of terror or dread, and typically occurring in the first few hours of sleep during stage 3 or 4 non-rapid eye movement NREM sleep.

**Reference #2: **According to the official Walking Dead wiki "Candace" is the name of T-19, or Jenner's late wife. Whom we learn in the season one finale ran the CDC and was a veritable genius in their profession.

"_People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling abroad." _- Marcel Proust


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Warnings:** Please see original chapter. - Rated for: adult language, adult situations, sex-sex-sex, and allusions to the season one finale.

**Authors Note #1:** Big thank you to_ Saena88_ for the quick beta!

**Pavor Nocturnus**

_**Chapter Two**_

All else considered, when he'd escorted her back towards the accommodation wing, he'd actually been planning on heading back to the control room. Already resigned to spending the rest of the night triple checking the list of non-essential power systems, or trying to see if he could somehow rebroadcast the last few weeks of data he'd managed to collect while they still had the power. – One last attempt to do _something_ constructive with the scant hours they had left.

But then again, maybe he'd just sit there. Staring at one of the computer monitors with a glass of disgustingly expensive scotch until Vi gently reminded him that it was seven in the morning and he hadn't slept in over two days. _Again._ He hadn't quite decided yet.

So, either way, he had to admit that he just hadn't been expecting it when she'd taken his hand and pulled him into the room after her. He hadn't been looking for it. It'd just happened, a slow progression of thought and action that had played out to one of a thousand different possible conclusions. Like Newton's law of motion, physic's ultimate truism. An object, once in motion tends to remain in motion.

_Candace would have laughed at that, at a chemist quoting __Newton__. He probably would have never heard the end of it._

But by the time that cream silk nightgown hushed down to the carpet, he's run out of excuses as to why he shouldn't. Too stuck on the way she's tugging at his shirt, trapping his arms above his head as they struggled with the troublesome material together. Both of them caught up in the rush that comes hand in hand with desperation, desire, and the need for somebody, _anybody_ to help stave away reality for just a few more minutes. Someone to help them forget, even if it is only for a little while, but also to remember as well, to remember that a little bit of goodness still exists in the world, and that they can have it, no strings attached.

…Because in the end, if he'd learned anything in all his time alone, it was that the details of the thing really didn't matter, only the moments... It wasn't about the conclusion, rather more about how you got there…

His hands curled around her shoulders as he pulled her in. Fingers mapping out her small frame as he trailed them down from shoulder to hip. Nerve endings sparking as smooth, feminine skin glided across the surface of his touch starved skin. Body craving it as he moved another impossible millimeter closer, pulse echoing at his temples, as his body and brain simmered down into that same, single minded focus that was unique to the male mind everywhere.

Because just-_yes.. This.._

And when her lips fall on his, he can't help but sigh in relief. The tension in his shoulders slowly lessening as he kissed her back eagerly, taking comfort in the moment as the fears and concerns of his conscious mind gradually began to trickle away.

Because she is different from Candace, and strangely enough, that's a good thing. …Or at least, he thinks it is. For some reason it feels important that he doesn't confuse them. That he remembers that this _isn't _her. That she could _never _be her. And that he is glad and disappointed about it all at the same time.

He lets her take charge at first, letting her roll on top of him for a few achingly long moments, supple thighs cradling the arch of his hips as she trailed her fingers down the length of his chest. Letting her show him what she liked and when. Content to simply let it happen as he slowly began to lose himself in her.

_After all, he'd always been a fast learner._

He catches flashes of her in the near dark; throat tightening on impulse at the way those beautiful brown eyes blazed right back. She looked fierce, emotive, and downright hungry when he grasped her by the hips and thrust upwards. Rubbing himself into the crease of her panties for the hell of it, determined to watch her fall apart.

He lets his gaze linger. Eyes catching on the odd droplet of sweat that was starting to slick her dark skin as she squirms in place, hair curling across her forehead in loose ringlets as she rubs herself against him. Desperately seeking her own pleasure as her small fingers began to curl around the waistband of his briefs.

But he beats her to it. Sneaking a hand in between them and swallowing her passionate cry as two of his fingers curled inside her, sinking into her heat, once then twice before twisting back up to thumb her clit. Holding her in place above him as she bucked into his hand, whimpering.

He may have smiled a little when his only response was to sink them _deeper_.

And suddenly, just like that, he's throbbing. Erect, proud, and weeping from the tip by the time he rolls them over and pins her underneath him. Skin tight with arousal and frustration as he yanked her up across the sheets, watching with a muted sort of pride as her eyes widened in surprise then darkened with lust. Hitching her hips upwards and grinding herself against him as she pulled him down for another desperate kiss.

And it was good. _...Jesus it was good._

When he finally slips inside her he nearly loses it right then and there. Holding onto his composure by the skin of his teeth as her breath stuttered, body shuddering underneath him as she arched up almost instinctively. Hips rising up to meet his as she clenched around his length almost experimentally, slowly adjusting to his size as he bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper, completely overwhelmed.

He nearly bit through his lower lip when he sunk in to the hilt. The sterile air punctuated by her low moans and the muffled sound of the others moving around in the rooms beyond. Cock wrapped around her tight heat as he pushed deeper. Muffling a groan into the curve of her neck as he slowly began to move.

But his hips only moved a handful of times before he was forced to slow. With rapid-fire thrusts turning deep and honey-slow as his breaths devolved into harsh, stuttering gasps that burned all the way down to his very lungs. _Jesus, he couldn't do this anymore he had to- ...He couldn't-...shit!_

He bowed his head, the muscles in his shoulders tensing and releasing as he fought for control. Lips tangy with the vexing sting of his own sweat as uneven rivulets flowed down from his soaked temples. _- _And for a long moment he just panted into the stillness. Lips salty and achingly dry as his tongue caught on the insistent acrid tang, as sweat dripped down across equally abused lips.

He had to admit he just hadn't been expecting it; the feelings. …The sheer power that comes when two people connect on such a basic, elemental level. He probably should have, but honestly he hadn't even considered it. - Maybe that's what happens when you've been on your own too long. You forget.

His throat caught on a jumble of words as he tried to voice everything he wanted. Everything he liked, and missed, suddenly desperate to just _tell_ her. To tell her about Candace, gratitude, and loneliness; about how good this was and how he wasn't going to be able to last. To tell her how she felt underneath him, all tight, smooth, and _right_. Only he couldn't seem to get it out.

But somehow she already knew. Somehow she just_ knew_, in spite of the rolling waves of pleasure and mounting confusion. Sensations that had her crying out and him biting back a half anguished moan in return, as her hand curled around his neck, drawing him down into her breast as she mouthed endearments into his skin.

"I know sweetie, I know…" She panted, seeming to cram every bit of feeling, every half shrouded emotion and unvoiced howl of loss and frustration into that one, innocuous sentence. Nails digging into the meat of his shoulders in affirmation as they started moving together, rhythms syncing as the pleasure rippled, dipping low in his belly as he buried himself inside her without censure. Almost like if he tried hard enough…if he moved fast enough, he might be able to forget everything, save for right here and right now.

Because in that moment, he realized that he didn't doubt her. Because she _did _know, they all did…

When she dug her fingers into his short, roseate hair, arching up into the press of his hips, so much like Candace used to, he tells himself that it's okay. And that maybe, if they had more time, he could even learn to let himself like it. To enjoy the touch of another woman's hands raking across his scalp, driving him mad with the one sensation that never failed to pull him right over the edge.

…Or maybe he is just lying to himself again. It was hard to tell these days.

But when the pleasure finally burst, overwhelming his control, his stoicism, everything he'd been running away from all this whole god damned time, he lets it. Burying his face into the crook of her neck and holding her tight as they cried out other people's names.

Only this time he didn't hesitate, crushing her tight across the span of his chest. Completely unashamed as he finally took what she had been offering all along. …Solace. Enveloping her fully until every square millimeter of her ebony skin was covered over with his own. - Almost as if his body was trying to tell her everything that his lips probably never could, something that sang of reconciliation, grief, and a sense of loss so deep that there were no words in the entire history of the human language that were adequate to describe it.

They remained lost in their own thoughts as the echoes lingered in the recycled air, coasting across their skin like endearments exchanged between lovers. - Like that night at the Centennial Olympic Park, where he'd gotten down on one knee and stammered his way through asking for her hand. Telling her he was only asking for forever as she threw back her head and laughed. Brown curls swirling around her face like an unruly mane as she threw herself at him and peppered him with kisses in response.

He doesn't know how long they stayed that way, spent and panting into the aftermath. All he knew was that he only found himself untangling their limbs and pulling away when a slow trickle of tears began falling across his pale, freckled skin. And it took him a moment to realize that surprisingly enough, they _weren't_ his.

But regardless of the tears, she only smiled when he met her eyes. Pressing his hand against her face as he reached up and wiped them away, smoothing the salt tracks with the pads of his fingers as he brought her in for a slow, tentative kiss. – Hoping that yet again, actions would speak louder than words.

It wasn't until the echoes of two people singing, one rough edged and the other piping, but not entirely without skill, floated down the hallway. Raucous, loud, but ultimately good humored that she finally stirred. Her doe eyes kind, but still glistening with unshed tears as she pushed herself upright and turned to face him.

"Thank you…" She whispered, gratitude and exhaustion slurring the words as she wrapped her arms around him. Letting him rest his head against the swell of her breast as he mouthed lazy kisses across her smooth, sweat slicked skin, determined to ease her mind as he lost himself in her once again, eager to have his fill of her. ...To know her completely before the end of things.

It was only when her heart beat slowed, tapering down into the soft thrum of sleep, as exhaustion crept up on them both, that he dared to voice his thoughts aloud.

"Thank you… thank you for letting me have this…" he breathed, slowly pulling her into the curve of his chest as his head found one of the rumpled pillows. Strangely grateful when his soft murmur received no reply. - Because honestly, he wasn't really sure who it was actually addressed to. …Her, Candace, or someone else entirely.

But in spite of it all, for the first time in longer than he cared to admit, despite knowing that somewhere not too far away, a red clock was slowly counting down to the last day of their lives, he _didn't_ fall asleep thinking about death.

Funny how things seem to work out in the end…

* * *

**A/N:** This story is now complete. - Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing is love! I know this is a rare pairing, and probably the first of its kind, so thank you in advance for reading!

**Reference:** _Pavor Nocturnus _is a term that refers to a night terror, also known as a sleep terror, incubus attack, is a parasomnia disorder, causing feelings of terror or dread, and typically occurring in the first few hours of sleep.

"_There are beautiful people in similar situations, feeling very much the same things as we. And though we are alone, in a way we are not, and for me there's a __comfort__ in that.__"_ - Anonymous


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